


Of a Feather

by merelyafigment



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Gen, M/M, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26589949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelyafigment/pseuds/merelyafigment
Summary: Crowley spots an incongruous bird flying over London when he stops by to have a chat with Aziraphale. (Pure silly, fluffy crack. Not to be taken at all seriously.)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	Of a Feather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jackiesjunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackiesjunkie/gifts).



> This is dumb, quite silly crackfic written for a dear friend, because I express my love in terrible ways. [jackiesjunkie](/users/jackiesjunkie/) sent me an adorable picture of one pelican extending a wing over its resting pelican companion to shelter and shade it. Then I clearly went insane and this happened. I'd say it probably doesn't make sense without seeing the picture, but I don't think this would make sense even if one did see it.
> 
> Note: plays fast and loose with their ability to change forms.

The book shop's bell jingled and signaled Crowley's entrance, but Aziraphale had seen him nearby as he'd descended and thus had anticipated his arrival.

"What. Was that?" Crowley spoke very slowly, and pinned him with a gaze, glasses smoothly removed and now in hand to emphatically point at the Angel.

"Good day, Crowley, what brings you by?" Aziraphale greeted him warmly. He may have been humming contentedly to himself, just a little, as he made sure his newly reconstructed suit and human form were ship-shape. He'd just returned to the shop himself after a bit of a tour over London's skies. 

"What?" Aziraphale looked up absentmindedly, still feeling the wind in his hair, even though he hadn't had hair at the time. "Oh, the flying? Yes, well, I thought it would be a good way to cast an eye over the people. You know, just to check in, see if I was needed. These are troubled times, you know." 

There had been a great many troubled times over the millennia, but Aziraphale was really just grateful there were still times at all after they'd almost ended recently.

"That was not _flying_ , Aziraphale. That was a **pelican**. In Soho." Crowley seemed quite incredulous (and a bit judgmental), but the Angel easily shrugged it off.

"Well, yes. People don't really look up anymore, you know. So I thought it would be alright." Aziraphale was a bit sad about that, but continued gamely onward to justifying his thought process. "I mean, they'd notice an Angel, but I thought otherwise-"

"It's a sea bird, Angel! THIS- " Crowley indicated the bookshop, spreading his arms wide, but Aziraphale saw it as encompassing the entire surrounding area. "This is London!"

Aziraphale tried to defend himself. "It's technically an island. If you think of it that way..."

Crowley was rolling his eyes with a scoff, seeming to settle into the shop, and the slight bickering, like it was home. (It felt strangely warm and homey to the Angel, anyway.)

"I'm aware it's not the most appropriate." Aziraphale focused on smoothing his vest, straightening his waistcoat, anything but looking directly at Crowley while he was poking fun. "But I just felt like being a bit... _fluffier_ than a pigeon."

Even when Crowley laughed at him, he was at least laughing, and Aziraphale didn't mind it as much, even as he hid behind indignant tutting. He did wish to shift the conversation away, though, and struck upon the most lovely idea. "Why don't you join me tomorrow? You'd see it's really quite enjoyable."

"It does not sound enjoyable." Crowley countered. 

It was Aziraphale's turn to roll his eyes, apparently. "Oh come on, Crowley, it'll be refreshing! You'd make a wonderful bird."

"I don't want to." Crowley voiced his objection into a bookshelf this time, suddenly seeming very curious about its contents. 

Aziraphale knew better. He might not know the Ineffable Plan in all its ineffableness, but he knew Crowley did not peruse his books for the love of literature.

If he truly hated the idea, Aziraphale wouldn't press. He covered up his slight disappointment very well, he thought.

"Crowley, my dear, don't concern yourself with it. I'm fine on my own. The air is quite brisk. Bit smoggy, but-" Aziraphale didn't notice he was doing that thing where he tried to cover awkwardness with friendly patter until Crowley stopped him. (As Crowley often did.)

"I CAN'T! Okay, Angel?!" Crowley burst out, whirling around to suddenly glare at Aziraphale in challenge.

It didn't seem truly directed at the Angel, though, so Aziraphale didn't take it to heart. Crowley seemed frustrated, if the angry defeat of his gesturing was any indication.

"I'm good with the slithery things..." The demon's voice was a low mumble as Crowley's expressive hands, all long fingers and jagged grace, made sort of a slithering motion aimed at the floor. "But I've never had much luck with birds."

That was all? Aziraphale beamed at him, throwing his arms open a little, all acceptance, no blame. "Well, that's easy, my dear!" He couldn't stop the endearment tumbling out again, and he didn't try. Crowley was embarrassed, he needed it. "You have lovely wings, just think of those." 

Aziraphale's arm just naturally came to rest across Crowley's shoulders as the Angel went to his side, gesturing outward from the two of them, as if to paint a picture. He might have his wings tucked away, but it was instinct to cover the beings one cared about, he thought.

Leaning in close, faces side by side, he peered out upon the bookshop imagining the sky in its place, his voice was pure encouragement. "You've flown before, remember that lovely time saying goodbye to the garden after the first storms-" He was getting sidetracked. Wouldn't do to bring all that back up. "You merely have to focus on what it feels like to fly! Think feathers. And wind. And-"

Crowley huffed crankily, trying to sound disgruntled and quite put upon, but his breath was warm against Aziraphale's cheek and his shrug moved him closer rather than farther away. "Enough, Angel. I've got it. I'm only doing this so you don't get taken down by a drone, you know."

Aziraphale may have been smiling for a while, but it got even brighter, he felt. "Excellent! Maybe when we're done I can just miracle a small picnic in a nice spot. Can't carry anything as a bird you know."

Crowley snorted, still tucked right against his side. "Can in your beak thingy, can't you, pelican?"

He was teasing again and Aziraphale was happy. Despite that terrible thought.

His arm was still around Crowley, so Aziraphale's shudder pulled him ever so slightly closer still. "Oh, no! That wouldn't do at all."

Crowley chuckled some more, and Aziraphale started mentally planning their meal. No fish, he decided.

***

End

**Author's Note:**

> Evidently, a pelican in London might not be that strange to see, but: silly crack. Plus, Crowley probably just likes being contrary.


End file.
